


Collaborative Growth

by Glassheartxo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Not even Bob the builder could fix that finale, Pining, Post 5x12 fix-it fic, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Slow Burn, season 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:57:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glassheartxo/pseuds/Glassheartxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do we get so fucking invested in people who will probably end up hurting us?" Mandy asked shaking her head despondently. </p><p>Iggy was, surprisingly, the first one to speak up.</p><p>"I reckon it's like that um, surgeons general warning shit y'know?" he answered, plumes of smoke coming out as he finally exhaled.</p><p>"The what now?" Mickey asked raising an eyebrow and reaching out to take joint that was dangling from between his fingertips.</p><p>"Y'know the warning thing on cigarettes that says don't smoke cause it'll make your dick limp or kill you or some shit like that. You know it's bad for you but it feels good and you enjoy doing it so you say fuck it and before you know, bam, your addicted" he replied with a careless shrug.</p><p>A post 5x12 fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

 

Mickey can remember the way his mother looked when he was 5 years old, before the drugs and his father crept in through the cracks and chipped away at her to reveal the crumbling foundation underneath. He realises it must be unusual to have memories that go back that far but he reckons his subconscious has so little memories worth hanging on to that it makes sense it would file that one away for a rainy day when he felt like indulging in some additional misery .He remembers she had a kind face and blue eyes so like his own, out of all of her kids he and Mandy looked the most like her, something he had once been quite proud of in his childish innocence. He can still recall how she would sing to them and tell them stories about Ukraine where she grew up, taught them the language in secret, the two of them hanging on to her every word like she was explaining how to cure cancer. But those aren't the things  he remembers. He remembers how she used to tell him stories about love and how it could conquer everything and anything thrown its way. She talked about love like it was the most powerful emotion one could ever hope to feel, used to hold his face between her hands and say how she couldn't wait for him to experience it one day. He remembers being excited, even hopeful at the thought of getting to experience something so special and foolishly allowed himself to entertain a future where he might be happy and in love like his mother and father proclaimed to be.

***

 

Mickey remembers being 7 and hearing his mother scream in pain as her head cracked off the wall outside his bedroom with a sickening thud. Remembered Mandy clutching his sleeve and shaking as they listening to their mother's pathetic whimpers of pain, almost inaudible over his father's thundering voice. Remembers nights curled up in bed with his sister because she was too afraid to sleep alone, listening to her cry until the sound started to bleed into the screams creating a maddening backdrop to the macabre circus of thoughts slowly taking a grip of his mind. He remembers counting down the seconds until his father would retreat out into the night to drink himself into oblivion, till he could creep out and check if his mother was still breathing. Checking her pulse every night in her sleep, desperate to feel the thrum of blood rushing under his fingertips. He recalls how at first, after every beating she would always gather the kids together to reassure them that everything was fine, how they were so brave, how they shouldn't be scared. Mickey can't remember when she stopped doing that but he suspects it was once the frequency of the beatings started to increase until it became a regular part of the Milkovich shit show. There was one particularly savage beating he'll never forget. It was Iggy's 10th birthday and his Dad had started drinking the minute he woke up, already in a foul mood from the night before. By lunchtime he had bashed their mother's face in so well that Jaime, the eldest at 15, threw himself in their father's path in an attempt to spare their mother any further damage. His bravery lost him 2 teeth and gained him an impressive black eye. Mickey remembers approaching his mother that night while she was sat in the kitchen and telling her he wasn't so sure if loving someone was a good thing anymore. She had taken his face between her hands, like she had many times before, smiling at him through tear soaked black eyes, doing her best to reassure him that love was worth the effort. He asked her why would someone want to go through so much pain and she replied with a broken smile that looked more like a bloody grimace, and told him that it was better than being lonely.

***

 

Mickey remembers being 8 and watching his mother stare at the TV with a glazed look, so strung out that she was barely able to form a coherent sentence. Her descent into drugs had been slow but ultimately inevitable, her only escape from a psychotic abusive husband being found in a cocktail of drugs so potent that she often didn't get out of bed some days. Mickey recalls trying to get her attention when his dad broke Colin's arm, pleading for help as his brother howled in the background, his own face battered and bloody after leaping in to defend him. But she just sat there muttering to herself. Eventually, after a few more broken bones, the kids learned to deal with their problems on their own because no one was going to help them. At 8 Mickey had started to realise that love was more pain than pleasure and he was starting to wonder if his mother knew what she was talking about at all. Even familial love, something that he had once thought he possessed, had become unknown within the Milkovich family, the boys becoming afraid of showing any form of affection towards each other in case their father got the idea that they were 'too soft like  _her_.' He recalls standing in front of his mother as she lay on the couch and telling her he wasn't sure if he believed in love any more but she gave no response, too far into her drug induced fugue to respond. Mickey fought back tears of frustration and yelled at her to answer him but she just lay there, tiny and weak looking, a mere shadow of the woman who used to sing to him.

And still Mickey diligently continued to check her pulse every night, until the night there was none.

***

 

Mickey can recall being 9 perfectly, can picture himself staring down at his mother in her coffin and wishing for the tiniest fraction of a second that it was him lying there instead. He remember feeling the realisation that love is a disease that causes people to slowly rot away until there's nothing left of them and abandons all hope of ever having it.

***

 

Mickey was 12 when he realised he liked other boys in a way he most definitely shouldn't and dealt with this new discovery by channelling his internal rage into kicking the shit out of the first kid to look at him twice, picturing his own face with every swing. When he came home and his father saw the blood on his knuckles he clapped him on the back and told him that he was definitely his son, misplaced pride apparent on his face. Mickey couldn't help but wonder what emotion would cross his father's face if he knew the thoughts that really went on in his head. He imagined he wouldn't have time to form many new ones before his dad splattered his brain all over the walls. A cold feeling started to form in the pit of stomach that had him hitting the next guy even harder. 

***

 

Mickey was 15 when he finally figured out that he was fucked for life but he was finding it hard to care at that point. People crossed the street when they saw him coming, his education was non-existent and his father was a psychopath who would no doubt end up killing him one day. He was covered in scars and permanently bruised but he knew he was safe from any real pain, heart safely hidden behind the hundred foot steel wall he had constructed. He knew that even if there was the slightest chance of love being real, it wasn't a possibility for a South Side thug with an interest in getting fucked by other guys. His mother had always told him that being lonely was the worst thing in the world but Mickey didn't agree, because at least when your alone you have no one left to disappoint you. So he sold drugs and broke kneecaps and let himself bask in the knowledge that anger was the closest emotion to passion he was ever destined to feel.

***

 

Mickey was 17 when Ian Gallagher came hurtling into his life and started demolition on the defences he had constructed so well, an air of determination in his eyes as he attempted to de-construct every thought Mickey had ever had about passion and feelings and all that other shit he thought he had long buried. Gallagher wasn’t fooled by the cold smirking mask Mickey wore at all times, if anything he just seemed more determined to peel it back and unlock the boy hidden behind it. No matter how much he offered him it was never enough, the redhead didn't just want his body, he wasn't just after a quick fuck, he wanted his mind, he wanted  _everything._  He wasn't used to having someone want something from him, more accustomed to people trying to avoid him, but this kid was different. He actually wanted to be around Mickey, to talk to him and spend time with him. He stared at him like he might be something special, like there might be something amazing hidden behind his rough exterior. Mickey dreaded the day Gallagher realised that there was nothing but pain and ugliness within him. But what scared him the most was the overwhelming temptation to give into him, to give him what he wanted, to make him happy. At first he passed it off as a residual lingering after effect of the sex but the more the feeling grew the more he realised it might be something entirely different. Something terrifying that he couldn't quite put a name too, he just knew it left him feeling dizzy and weak, like a hand was wrapping around his lungs and squeezing them tightly.

It wasn't a nice feeling and he was afraid that if he let it in it would suffocate him. So every time the redhead leaned forward to kiss him, hope lighting his eyes that maybe this time Mickey would let him, he would jerk back violently spilling ugly words from his sneering mouth and hope that Gallagher got the underlying message. That he was a piece of shit who wasn't worth anyone's time and efforts, especially not someone as good as Gallagher, so it was better that they went their separate ways before one of them got attached. And by one of them he was mostly definitely thinking of himself. He knew getting closer to the other boy was the equivalent of swimming out too far into water, if he didn't stop he was going to get swept away.

In the end he let himself get swept away.

***

 

Mickey was 18 when his father finally caught them, can remember the sick crack of the gun across his head before he was granted the reprieve of unconscious for a few moments. When he woke up to the Russian, he found himself wishing again for a moment, just like when he was 9, that he hadn't woken up. And as he was forced to fuck her in front of Ian, the one person who ever thought he was worth more than his piece of shit family name, he realised that this wasn't him being swept away, this was him finally drowning. 

***

 

He was 19 with a pregnant wife when he realised the only thing worse than never finding love is being close enough to touch it and having it slip through your fingers. He had been close enough to taste it, to be tempted by its warmth, but that feeling had left the room with Ian when he decided he was leaving. He knew he should have said something to make him stay, should have voiced his thoughts when he had the chance but what could he really say?  _I'm scared to want you because I'm used to having nothing. I'll inevitably disappoint you. You’re better off without me anyway. My hands are too stained with other people’s blood to hold your hand. My insides are too ugly and I don't want you to see. Please stay. Please don't leave me here all alone._ And once he was gone all that he had left was his thoughts and his broken dreams, but at least the alcohol dulled the sharp pain in his heart. Mickey was 19 when he decided that if he ever got the chance to be with Ian again he wouldn't fuck it up again, he'd do it properly and make him want to stay this time. And when he finally saw Ian at the club after all that time he finally felt alive in a way he hadn't in months. 

***

 

Mickey was nearly 20 when he realised that he was truly happy for the first time in his life. He woke up every day beside Ian and couldn't believe that someone as tarnished as he was, was allowed to have something so special, was allowed to have love. And it was love, the all-consuming powerful love his mother promised him he'd have one day and for a while he thought she was right all that time. At first the feeling was so strong and overwhelming that it scared him when he felt it. When he was lying in bed with Ian and he was staring at Mickey with adoration in his eyes, when they were kissing and he felt him smiling against his mouth, he was still always waiting for the catch, waiting for it all to be snatched away. He remembers one time when they were coming back down to earth after some particularly intense sex and Ian had rolled over onto to him and started muttering against his lips while trying to catch his breath. At first Mickey couldn’t make out what he was saying but after a minute he realised it was “ _you're perfect_ ” he was whispering over and over again like a prayer against his mouth. It was in that moment, heart swelling to bursting point that Mickey knew he would do anything to keep the boy on top of him happy, anything at all. They may have been South Side, Mickey might have been trash and maybe Ian really was sick but it didn't matter. He knew in that moment that nothing was ever going to come between them and if that was what love felt like, it was the greatest feeling in the world.

 

***

Mickey was 20, lying in a hospital bed and trying hard to remember what it felt like to be happy and in love but his brain was failing to supply any memories at the present time. He registered the doctor saying something about a ‘gunshot wound’ but once he heard the words ‘full recovery’ his attention started to drift away, too distracted by the empty feeling in his chest. If he had the energy or the motivation to talk he would have been tempted to ask if he’d had something surgically removed because he felt strangely hollow, like a display case with nothing in it. The morphine created a pleasant numb sensation in his head that held back the river of pain that would no doubt crush him if he acknowledged it. He found himself slipping back into unconsciousness, a flash of red the last thing he thought of before the darkness sucked him under.

When he woke again it was to a nurse asking if he’d be up for a visitor who turned out to be Iggy. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, shuffling his feet before coming to stand by the bed. Mickey was vaguely aware of being asked questions but he doesn't think he said much more than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ before descending into grunts instead. His brother eventually left, but not before telling him he’s glad he’s okay in a voice that’s strained with a lot more relief than Mickey expected to hear.

When he’s gone Mickey tells the nurse he doesn't want to see anyone else for the rest of the time he’s there.

***

 

_“I love you”_

_“What does that even mean?”_

Mickey woke up with a jump, the sound of Ian’s voice echoing in his head quickly being upstaged by the powerful thumping sensation that had chosen to take up residence in his head. His body ached all over and the temptation to crawl back under the covers was so overwhelming that he nearly gave in straight away. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that he hadn’t got out of bed in the 3 days since he got out of hospital and thus had managed to drink all the liquor in the house. He bit out an angry sigh and rubbed his face roughly with both hands before reaching blindly for his packet of smokes on the dresser. As he lay against the headboard and inhaled his much needed nicotine hit he became aware of the dull pain in his side where his newest gunshot wound lay beneath the dressing. Of course he would get fucking shot again, and by a fucking Gallagher too.

He tries to finish his smoke in peace, fights to keep his head carefully blank until he can get some mind altering substance into his body to help him deal with his shit. But things were never that easy. Slowly but surely he feels the things he’s trying to bury impeding on his thoughts, creeping up into the corners of his mind and filling the once blissfully empty spaces with cloying, suffocating negativity. _Pain. Anger. Sadness. Loneliness._ It felt like his brain was trying its best to punish him for daring to go 5 minutes without thinking about Ian. He feels his hands start to tremble, skin getting that horrible tightening sensation that usually proceeded the shakes and the gasping. His hands shook as he lit another cigarette, cursing when the tremors made it harder to light. He inhaled large greedy mouthfuls of the smoke feeling it calming his racing heart slightly and bringing his accelerating thoughts back to a manageable level. He sat there taking deep breathes of nicotine until the feeling passed and he could breathe again.

When he finally stubbed out the cigarette he managed to drag himself from the bed while studiously ignoring all mirrored surfaces along the way. He already knew he probably looked like shit, he didn’t need any more confirmation than that. His wound throbbed angrily with every step but he had already taken all of his painkillers in a slightly more recreational than suggested way. He was glad to find the house empty, was sick of Iggy and Colin casting worried glances his way and asking him if he was okay. He really fucking wasn’t.

A quick sweep confirmed that the house was sadly alcohol free but at least there was plenty of drugs. His stomach was clenching violently and he realised he probably hadn’t eaten in 3 days unless he did when he was wasted and just couldn’t remember. He couldn’t really remember much of what he had gotten up to at all. He forced himself to eat two or three slices of leftover pizza before helping himself to the weed Iggy had left out on the coffee table. If he was going to have to leave the house he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it with a clear head. He also managed to pull himself into the shower as a last minute decision after catching sight of himself and realising that if he went out in public looking the way he did he might literally be refused admission into the liquor store.

Standing in the shower made his head spin so he was forced lean against the wall pitifully like one of those old geriatrics he used to give Ian shit over. He barely managed to find the energy to pull his clothes on before he was out the door with a cigarette in hand. His walk to the liquor store was blissfully uneventful and he was almost happily home when he spotted a shock of red hair across the street. Debbie fucking Gallagher.

Mickey felt his heartbeat start to pick up as a look of realisation swept across her features followed quickly by that annoying fucking look of Gallagher stubbornness and determination which usually never boded well. Before she had managed to take 2 steps Mickey had shot off in the opposite direction walking faster than an adult male should be walking when faced with the threat of a teen girl. When he got home he downed half the bottle of whiskey he had just bought and allowed the mixture of alcohol and drugs in his system to drag him down into the welcoming darkness, cursing the day he ever decided to get involved with the fucking Gallaghers.

***

 

Mickey couldn’t help but groan aloud in pleasure as the drugs kicked into effect and the feeling of euphoria took over. His blood was rushing in his veins, his skin felt flushed and his heart was racing wildly. His fingers trembled; mouth open as he breathed heavily. His eyes were wide open. _Dilated._ Everything felt good for once, everything was his and nothing could touch him. Everything around him seemed to be brighter, more vivid. More _beautiful._ He had gone out that night with the sole intention of once again fucking his problems away, a habit he was getting way too into, and going home miserable but when the guy of the night had offered him cocaine things started to rapidly pick up. His own brothers had started hiding their stash after they realised he was snorting it like it was going to disappear overnight. Everything around him looked more beautiful, even the guy he had planned on fucking seemed less unappealing with his veins full of more than just blood. He doesn’t really remember getting fucked that well, too drunk and coked out to recall the details but he knows he rather selfishly didn’t bother to let the other guy finish before he unceremoniously punched him in the face and took the rest of the coke off his hands. High off the mixture of sex, drugs and copious amounts of alcohol he felt alive for the first time since before he got shot and he couldn’t find the power to feel guilty about the source.

***

 

Mickey had known that doing meth on top of the coke was a terrible idea but he couldn’t seem to stop himself at the time. Meth always made him twitchy, aggressive and paranoid but he had been having a particularly miserable night and needed something to dull the emptiness. He had fallen asleep and dreamed about Ian, about kissing him, holding him, seeing his smile. Telling him he loved him. The dream was so vivid that when he woke up the pain was unbearable leading him to finishing off the leftover coke and then proceeded on to the meth. His vision had started to swim and he could barely keep him himself upright but he needed the stimulation, the distraction, more than anything else in the world at that moment in time. Anything was better than the crushing emptiness. So he kept drinking until the bottle of whiskey was empty and his limbs felt like lead and when he slipped into the darkness that time, for once he wasn’t worried about not waking up.

***

 

The next time Mickey opened his eyes he was greeted by the tell-tale beeps of hospital equipment, the sharp smell of disinfectant and the worried faces of his brothers. They shouted for the doctor who proceeded to prod at him and ask him stupid questions that he only half-listened to and half-answered. She continued on to tell him that he had overdosed and how he was ‘lucky to be alive’ considering the amount of narcotics in his system and how there were options for people like him who were going through a rough patch. She then told him how ‘lucky’ he was not to have ripped his stiches and how he could get them out in a few days. Lucky, lucky, lucky. That was probably the last thing he felt at that time.

When she was gone Iggy proceeded to shout up a storm at him throwing around words such as ‘reckless’ and ‘stupid’ while Colin looked on awkwardly, not really one for such emotional displays. Mickey didn’t respond and just let him rant it all out until he finally deflated like a balloon that had lost too much air. He said sorry but the word tasted bitter in his mouth because he wasn’t sorry at all. Sure he was sorry for causing them fuss and for worrying them but he wasn’t sorry for rest. He wasn’t going to apologise for doing what he did to keep himself together.

Iggy just sighed and forced a smile that lacked any really sincerity before standing up and ruffling his hair and saying he’d come see him tomorrow. The gesture made Mickey’s heart ache for a minute, remembering how he used to do the same thing back when they were kids and he needed reassurance from his big brother. The kids they used to be seemed a lifetime away at that minute in time.

   ***

 

Mickey knew he should feel bad about the drugs coursing through his veins but he felt he definitely needed them that night. The annoying red-headed girl Gallagher had started coming poking around a few days before and he was surprised it had taken him this long to crack. The first time she had turned up she had pushed past him before he could even get the door fully open, eyes critically surveying the room. She proceeded to lecture him to high hell for how drunk and stoned he was in the middle of the day and nag him about his general health. He learned on a later visit that she had heard about him ending up in hospital and this is what spurred her into visiting.

Before long she was turning up to pester him, make him eat and telling him every insignificant detail of her life in a very Gallagher-esqe fashion. Like every other thing the Gallagher’s tended to do, he grudgingly learned to tolerate it. However, what triggered his return to hard drugs was when she very so slyly decided to drop Ian into the conversation one day. He had just got back from the hospital after getting his stiches out and the doctors had already sent his blood pressure rocketing with their questions and prying. He ended up completely flipping out and screaming at her to leave before proceeded to snort several lines of cocaine to fend off the tremors he could feel starting in his fingertips.

He ended up in some bar downtown that he didn’t normally frequent, not wanting to run into any familiar faces. It was there, nursing a beer that he came to the unnecessary and unprompted realisation that he hadn’t seen Ian in over three weeks which caused a wave of anger and pain so potent that he quickly decided to beat the face in of the next ginger he saw as a form of catharsis. With that out of his system and the blood singing in his veins he proceeded to get drunker than he had since before the hospital.

***

 

When Mickey finally regained consciousness he became quickly aware of his surroundings, South Side preservation instincts kicking in fast. After a few minutes of deliberation he realised that he was one, still pissed and two, lying in an alley. Lamenting the fact that he wasn’t far off becoming Frank he pushed himself off the ground using the nearby dumpster for leverage. Staggering slightly as he let go, he proceeded to search his coat pockets until he found a rumpled box of cigarettes. As he went to light one he noticed his knuckles were bruised and bloody, throbbing slightly in the cold night air. A quick sweep of his tongue across his lips had him wincing in pain, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

He managed to make it home without incident, face starting to sting as the cocktail of stimulants and other substances faded away leaving a dull buzzing in his ears. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that although he had clearly got a few hits in the face, the lack of serious damage indicated there was probably a good chance he had won the fight. He somehow managed to make himself something to eat without burning the house down, hunger finally winning out over everything else. He proceeded to drag himself to the bathroom once he was finished and washed the sticky drying blood off his face before it started to cake, revealing a few nasty cuts and a busted lip. He collapsed on the couch afterwards, the room dark and eerily quiet.

The silence started to claw at him making his skin feel tingly and uncomfortable and he forced himself to turn the TV on for the sake of noise. He started to feel more and more overwhelmed, throat constricting with some held back emotion that had him pulling the room apart looking for something, anything to numb the pain. He found some diazepam that his brother had been trying to fence a while back and chased a couple back with half a bottle of beer he had found in the fridge. He stripped down to his underwear, lay down on his bed and waited for them to take effect. He was nearing the end of his third cigarette when he felt his eyes start to burn with unshed tears. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry since his first trip to the hospital, the drugs and alcohol acting as a dam to hold back the tears but he couldn’t deny the burning pain he was feeling anymore. On impulse he picked up his phone and started to scroll through his contacts rapidly, forcing himself to concentrate on the screen through his blurry eyes until he found the one he was looking for. His finger hesitated over the name, hovering uncertainly. Quickly, before he had time to second guess his decision, he pressed the button to dial the number and held the phone to his ear hesitantly. The phone rang a few times before the person on the other end finally answered.

“Mick?”

The minute he heard his sister’s voice it was like something snapped within him and the tears started falling freely. The sound was painfully obvious and the next time his sister spoke he could hear the concern in the words.

“Mick? Shit, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

When she got no answer she decided to press on, distress becoming more apparent.

“Mick, seriously what the fuck is going on? You’re really starting to freak me out.” There was a pause before she spoke again in a softer voice.

“Tell me what’s wrong Mickey.”

The concern in her voice was what finally pushed him over the edge into hysteria and he hung up and curled into himself, shoulders shaking pitifully as he sobbed. And that night, after all those weeks of holding it in, Mickey finally bawled himself to sleep.

*** 

 

The buzzing was what finally roused him, an annoying vibrating sound that was impossible to ignore. He was emotionally exhausted after the night before and he blearily sat up ready to scream at whoever was causing the noise when he realised it was his phone ringing. He decided to go down the mature route and ignore it till it stopped which luckily for his throbbing headache, it did. He was half way through his morning cigarette when his phone buzzed again signalling a text. After a moment of deliberation he unlocked it to see what he had missed. He noticed with something that almost resembled guilt that he had 12 missed calls from Mandy and 7 texts. He steeled himself for possible abuse and opened his messages. The first six are exactly as he expected.

_“Mickey what the actual fuck was that? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”_

_“Answer the phone or I swear to God I will find you and slit your throat”_

_“C’mon Mick at least let me know if you’re okay I’m actually really worried over here”_

_“I promise I’m not mad just answer”_

_“Okay so now I am really mad! Answer the phone dickface!”_

_“Sorry about that… I may have overacted, just… please talk to me Mick”_

The final text was a little different. Instead of containing another threat or plea, the last text contained an address and was attached to a message saying “ _You know where I am if you need to talk”._ Mickey sat there for a good half an hour reading the text over and over again as he burned through half a box of cigarettes. By the time noon rolled around he had made his decision.

He haphazardly threw random articles of clothing and other useful items into a duffel bag he stole from Colin’s room that he probably used for drug runs but he’d have to learn to deal with it and booted up Mandy’s shitty old laptop to check bus times. It ended up taking 20 minutes and a whole lot of shouting but he eventually got the page to load to discover there was a bus leaving in a few hours for Indiana. He had booked the ticket before he could second guess himself using the family credit card which they probably couldn’t currently afford to pay back but he was beyond caring.

He spent the rest of the afternoon jittery and all geared up to leave, unable to sit still for more than 2 minutes. When the time came to leave he barely remembered to fire off a text to Iggy letting him know where he going before he set off for the bus stop. He was halfway into his journey before he fully realised what he was doing. He sent Mandy a text when he was about an hour off letting her know he’d be there soon and hoped she wasn’t busy, cursing himself for not warning her earlier. His phone buzzed a few minutes before arrival and he felt relief sweep through him when he read it.

_“See you soon Mick”_

His first thought when he got off the bus was that the area Mandy lived in was a bit of a shit-hole but at the same time he found it weirdly comforting because it wasn’t far off home. According to a further text he had received from her where she provided him with instructions, her apartment was only a 20 minute walk from the bus stop. He felt his nerves start to pick up the closer he got and his hands were literally shaking as he lit his cigarette. He hadn’t talked about what happened to anyone, his brothers only guessing due to his attitude and the lack of a certain redhead being around. He knew he wouldn’t get away with not talking when it came to Mandy and the thought of talking about things made his heart hammer nervously and his eyes prick with tears.

By the time he was outside her apartment block he had worked himself into a fine lather of nerves. He hesitated for a minute until he felt the rain beginning to fall and he figured his anxiety didn’t win out of over his dislike of getting drenched. These feelings were momentarily forgotten when he realised Mandy lived up four flights of stairs and the elevator was out of order, annoyance taking over for the moment. That emotion he could deal with, it had been his default for 80% of his life. By the time he was outside her door it had all come rushing back. He steeled himself to knock and the wait felt agonisingly long as he heard the tell-tale clicks of locks opening.

Then he was finally face to face with his sister after months without her and he didn’t know what to say.

“Hey Mick” she breathed out like was also feeling a bit overwhelmed, eyes scanning his face as she searched for any obvious signs of what was wrong.

For a minute he just stood there dumbly, mouth opening once or twice but nothing coming out. The rain was coming down heavy and the distant rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance. His sister just stood there patiently, giving him a chance to explain. And he thinks that it was maybe her patience, that look of understanding, that finally caused him to snap back into reality.

“I just, I…” he began before his words failed and his voice cracked pathetically, desperation coursing through him and making him feel weak.

He doesn’t know if it was what he said or his face or his voice but suddenly, before he knew what was happening, Mandy was stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. Her arms were skinny and fragile looking, just like when they were kids but her voice was firm and strong when she started muttering assurances against his neck. Before he could stop himself he was crying into her shoulder as she whispered soothingly telling him he was going to be okay. It was there, standing in the rain with his sister rubbing circles into his back that he finally acknowledged the damage love had done to him.

And in that moment he wanted nothing more than to go back in time to when his mother was alive and healthy and tell her she was a fucking idiot.

 

***

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope this story might interest someone, I mainly wrote it to quickly combat the shit show that was the finale. I personally love the Milkoviches and if it was up to me we'd see way more of them so I'm taking my own liberties with this fic. I decided to make this chapter purposely light on the dialogue as I knew it was going to long but I didn't want it to be freakishly long! Will be more actual talking next chapter. I know this chapter was very angsty but it will definitely lighten up along the way so hope that's okay with the readers. Will add more tags as I go along!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Родина

The sunlight streaming in through the blinds is what finally roused Mickey back into consciousness. He vaguely had time to acknowledge he wasn't hung-over for once before he was shooting up to survey the room warily. A quick glance around the room caused his heart rate to decrease when he remembered he was in Indiana not Chicago. When he had gotten in the night before he could tell Mandy was ready to interrogate him but he told her he hadn't slept properly in weeks and asked could they take a rain check on the emotional bullshit and he'd explain everything tomorrow. A quick sweep of his face must have told her not to push because she just told him she'd grab the extra blankets from the closet and make up the couch for him. He was fast asleep before 9 o'clock even hit, eyes shut before his head even touched the pillow. A quick glance at the clock said it was 10 but he knew he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep with the sun in his eyes so he sat up to dig through his coat for his phone and cigarettes and found he had two texts.

The first was from Iggy and it simply said, ‘ _Say hi 2 Mandy frm me, hope ur doing better bro, me n Colin will hold up things on this end til ur back’._

He quickly shot back a text saying thanks before moving on to read Mandy's. _‘I had to go to work but I'll be back at 5. There's coffee and stuff to eat if you’re hungry. I'm bringing home vodka so hope you’re ready to talk shithead.’_

After finishing his morning cigarette he set about examining the apartment. It was quite small and open plan, the kitchen; couch, dining table and tv were all in the same room which had off white walls and a wooden floor. There were only two other rooms, one which he discovered was the bathroom, the other Mandy's bedroom. It wasn't the nicest place he'd ever been but it was clean and a far cry from the house of horrors they grew up in. He managed to force down two pop tarts along with his coffee which was the most breakfast he had eaten in about a month so he considered it a small victory. Afterwards he flopped down on the couch and decided to throw on the TV to kill time. By the time lunchtime rolled around his patience and his cigarettes were running out and he was starting to get twitchy and irritable. He made it as far as 2 before he snapped and went to see if Mandy had left a spare key behind which he realised, to his relief, she had. He was out the door before he even realised he had left his coat, the chill in the air a bitter reminder.

It took him nearly half an hour to locate a shop which put him in an even more awful mood and he went straight for the alcohol to remedy it. Walking back with the bottle of whiskey in his hand he could already feel the tension ebbing away knowing he had something familiar to cling to. He immediately downed a good quarter of it and let it work its magic, the alcohol flowing in his veins causing his body to relax and loosen up. By the time he heard the sound of the key in the lock signalling Mandy’s return he felt considerably mellower.

"Hey Mick" she called as she went to put her bag on the counter. The sight of her atrocious 1960s waitress uniform had him snorting out loud and she turned to face him with an eyebrow raised critically.

"Nice to see you too, I see you started without me?" She said dryly while gesturing to the half empty bottle on the coffee table.

"Yeah well, no offence but your apartment is really fucking boring" he shot back with a cigarette dangling between his lips.

"Well sorry my humble abode doesn't quite meet your standards Daddy Warbucks" she replied airily, throwing herself down beside him and plucking the cigarette from his mouth.

They sat in silence for a minute, passing the cigarette back and forth while the tv created a quiet buzz in the background. Once it was finished Mandy turned to face him and offered him a small smile.

"So... I take it this is going to be a long story?"

"Yep" he replied, dryly making sure to pop the p.

"I thought so, let me get changed and grab the vodka and this killer weed I got from the one eyed drug dealer on the 2nd floor and then I promise you can rant your fucking heart out" she said while jumping up from the couch.

A few minutes later found them on the couch, Mandy sitting facing him with the vodka in hand. She was wearing a ratty looking pyjama top with hello kitty on it and Mickey found himself staring at it for a minute. Mandy didn't notice straight away, too busy wrestling with the top of the vodka bottle but when she caught him looking she cast him a suspicious glance.

"You laughing at my top now dickface?" She asked while reaching for the shot glass.

"Fuck off" he shot back automatically but he continued on after a minute in a quieter voice. "You used to have pyjamas just like that when you were younger"

She paused at that, a look of surprise written across her face. "Yeah, mom bought them for me for Christmas.... You remember that?"

He nodded and she looked at him with a soft expression on her face that was tinged with sadness, thoughts no doubt drifting towards the past. She quickly snapped out of it, filled her shot glass to the brim and threw it back.

"Right, so here's how it's going to go. I'm going to down a few of these for the sake of catching up, then you’re going to tell me what the _fuck_ has my brother this upset and then we are going to get as fucked up as we were at uncle Ronnie’s 40th" she said already filling the next one as he lit one of the pre rolled joints she had prepared.

After the sixth shot in a row Mandy grimaced and shook her head which managed to get a reluctant smile out of Mickey for a minute that she returned sheepishly.

"I haven't drank vodka since the night Kenyatta left, I forgot how fucking bad it tastes" she offered by way of explanation, stealing the joint off him and taking a long drag.

"Wait, Kenyatta’s gone?" Mickey fired back with a raised eyebrow. "When -"

"No way Mick, you first then we can talk about the tragic plot of the Mandy Milkovich show" she interrupted with a knowing look.

Mickey turned to stare at the coffee table intensely before Mandy cleared her throat and nudged him with her foot. He dragged his eyes back towards her to find her looking at him expectantly while refilling her shot glass.

"Ian broke up with me" he said quietly.

Mandy nearly spat out her drink and sat up like she had been electrocuted. "What the fuck! You serious? Fuck Mick... I mean I just presumed you'd had a fight or something but... _Jesus_ " she said trailing off with a look of shock.

Mickey couldn't find it in him to respond so Mandy decided to pour him a drink and slid closer to him on the couch.

"Tell me _everything_ , from the beginning" she said firmly, grasping his knee for a second and handing him the glass.

He squeezed her hand back briefly and proceeded to tell her the whole story. About Ian cheating, the porn, the suitcases, him stealing Yevgeny, the psych ward, the army and everything in between. By the time the story came to a close Mandy was sitting with a joint between her fingers, staring at a couch cushion lost for words. After a minute she reached out and punched him hard in the arm.

"What the fuck was that for bitch!?" He shouted grabbing his arm. Say what you want about his sister but she really knew how to throw a punch.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this was happening fuckface? And why did you wait so long to call" she demanded waving an arm about.

 "I was afraid if I told you about what was happening you might come back and I didn't want to drag you back to that shithole" he answered taking a swig from the bottle of vodka, whiskey long gone.

"Men" she replied shaking her head. She was quiet for a minute, thoughts dragged back to the matter at hand.

 "I'm really sorry Mick" she said after a minute of contemplation.

"Y'know what the worst part is? Right before it happened I told him I _loved_ him, to his fucking face Mandy. And he says to me, 'what does that even mean?' Starts sprouting all this bullshit about how I used to love him and now I don't know who is. But I do know who he is. He's a fucking idiot who thinks because I want him to take his pills and be healthy that must mean I'm trying to change him or I can't accept him for who he is. He thinks I'm trying to fucking _fix_ him. I mean I fucking gave him everything, I changed _everything_ about myself to make him happy, so I could be good enough for him. I fucking came out for the bastard, I came out to our psychopathic father for him and it's _still_ not enough" Mickey said, voice rising steadily in volume as he went on.

Mandy shook her head and offered him the bottle. "That’s really shitty Mick, you have every right to be pissed, don't worry I get it" she said leaning into his side.

"The kid used to pester me to be his fucking boyfriend like being with me was some kind of fucking prize. Begged me not to get married like doing it would cause the sun to fall out of the sky or some shit and then I _finally_ I tell him I fucking love him and it's still not enough. Guess I thought the first time I said that to someone else they might at least say it back" he said with a bitter laugh.

"Yeah well, I know the feeling" Mandy mused with a pained smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he replied while taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Right before I left, the night before as a matter of fact, I told Lip I loved him" she answered, averting her eyes away.

Mickey paused and cast a calculating glance over Mandy’s face, silently prompting her to continue with her sudden confession.

“He didn’t say it back, he didn’t say it back and it hurt so fucking _much_. I just couldn’t bare it Mick. I think it was part of the reason I left, maybe even the main reason” she said softly, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“He’s a fucking asshole, you deserve way better Mandy. You always go for guys who treat you like shit and you don’t fucking deserve it” Mickey replied while angrily stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Maybe there’s something wrong with me” she laughed without a trace of amusement on her face.

It was that sentence which caused Mickey to reach out and cuff her none too gently over the back of the head resulting in her letting out a high pitched yelp of pain.

“Shut the fuck up. There’s nothing fucking wrong with you alright? You’re a great fucking girl and if a guy isn’t smart enough to see that then it’s their fucking loss alright?” Mickey stated while fixing Mandy with an intense look.

For a minute he swore her eyes almost looked a bit wet but she quickly regained control and gave him a playful shove back. Things were silent after that for a while, both of them just smoking quietly and passing the bottle of vodka back and forth between them. Eventually Mandy felt Mickey’s shoulders shaking the tiniest bit and looked over to find him laughing to himself. She cocked a questioning eyebrow at him and he gave her a half smile tinged with disgust.

“Can’t believe we both got our hearts broken by the fucking _Gallagher’s_ ” Mickey said with a grimace like the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Fuckin’ Gallaghers” she agreed.

They both started laughing at that until they ended up getting vaguely hysterical and were leaning against each other while trying to catch their breath. It took Mandy about 30 seconds to notice her brother’s eyes were starting to fill with tears that he was barely managing to hold back. She felt her chest start to ache and the laughter caught in the back of her throat causing it to constrict painfully as she caught glimpses of the sensitive brother she had grown up with appear behind the crumbling mask he had to create to survive their father. It was in that moment that she couldn’t help but think that the saddest sight in the world was to watch someone remember they had just had their heart broken after blissfully forgetting for a few minutes. She reached out to clasp his hand, knitting their fingers together and letting him know that she understood how terrible it was to have someone make you feel like you might actually be special, like you might actually matter, only to then reduce you to feeling absolute worthless.

Once he had gotten himself under control, mask back in place but only hanging on a by a thread, he turned to look at her with eyes dimmed by pain and gave her a look she could only describe as _lost_. She had seen that look on his face only once before, the first time their father hit their mother.

“It’s just… why wasn’t I enough for him? I tried really hard to be a decent person, maybe not in general, but for him. I literally gave 110% and it just wasn’t fucking good enough, _I_ wasn’t good enough. That’s a pretty shitty feeling.” He said wistfully.

“It is a shitty feeling, it’s a feeling I’ve felt all too fucking often myself, that feeling of being inadequate. The South Side scum phenomena is one I’m all too fucking familiar with” Mandy replied with a sigh.

“Well, I’ve learned the moral of this story, I’m trash, I’ll always be trash and there’s nothing I can do about it, fuck, even my best isn’t good enough” Mickey stated darkly while flicking the lighter on and off angrily.

“Don’t say that Mick, you’re not trash” Mandy scolded, reaching out to grab the lighter off him before he broke it.

“You're right, I’m a perfect boyfriend, that’s why he dumped me and left me to be _shot_ by his pyscho sister” Mickey shot back.

“That’s not your fault Mick! Ian is one of my best friends and I love him but fuck, that is literally one of most shitty things I have ever heard. I mean, I realise he's sick so I understand he's not himself and I get why you'd feel pretty down about the whole being shot thing, but that was nothing to do with anything you did so don’t you go blaming yourself for him making an asshole move” she demanded while forcing him to look at her. When she didn’t get a reply she proceeded to shake him violently until he shouted his agreement back.

“Good man, now, how about I order us some pizza?” she asked.

***

By the time 1am rolled around the two siblings were very much wasted and very full of pizza. Mickey waited till his cigarette was lit and proceeded to poke Mandy’s sock clad feet from where they were situated on his lap.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened with that asshole Kenyatta?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, as you yourself told me he was going to do before I left for Indiana; he decided to keep using my face as a punching bag. So one day I decided, _fuck this_ and went out and bought a shotgun. Next time he raised a fist at me I pulled it out and told him he had till the count of 10 till I splattered his brains all over my kitchen counters” she answered with a careless shrug the way all Milkoviches did when discussing casual violence.

“Good fucking riddance, I just wish you had done it sooner” Mickey replied with a pleased sniff.

“Yeah well, I was lonely and to be perfectly honest, I was jealous” she said, releasing a long stream of smoke from between her lips.

“Jealous? Of what?” Mickey asked with a surprised look.

“You. You were all happy and in love and shit… I just really wanted someone to feel that way about _me_.” She answered after a brief pause. Mickey regarded her silently for a minute, unsure of what to say.

“Yeah well, you saw how _that_ turned out” he said quietly leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes.

Mandy shook her head as she proceeded to pull out her stash of weed and rolling papers to make herself another joint. “You're wrong Mickey, the way Ian dumped you may have been shit but he _did_ love you, there’s no point in even pretending that he didn’t, you forget that I was the one who listened to him gush over you for years, although I didn’t know he was talking about you at the time.”

Mandy was nearly finished making the joint when she paused for a minute and fixed Mickey with a look that let him know she was afraid he might not agree with what she was about to say.

“Y’know Mick” she said with a thoughtful look on her face, “maybe it’s for the best that you and Ian spend some time apart. He’s clearly not in the right mind frame for a relationship if he can look at you being shot at and have no reaction. You deserve to be with someone who’s going to be able to appreciate all you do for them, because you did a _lot_ for Ian, and right now he can’t appreciate that. It wouldn’t be fair to you to be his boyfriend right now when he isn’t able to give you 100% the way you give him. At the moment you're just more emotionally available than him so you’re better off apart until he can figure his shit out.”

She could see Mickey was struggling to process what she just said so she quickly added “I’m not saying you should jump back into his arms when he is ready though if you don't want to because fuck that, he was shitty to you and I'd understand if your angry. You don’t have to sit around waiting for him. You’re young and you’re not the most wretched guy I’ve ever seen so you should get out there and get some dick”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence” he replied dryly while raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, coming from me that was the highest of compliments but seriously Mick I'm just saying do what makes _you_ happy, get back with him, don't get back with him just do what feels right to you" she said sticking the joint between her lips and lighting it.

They spent the next few minutes passing it back and forth while watching shitty game shows and chattering about anything and everything. When it was gone Mandy turned to her brother with a nervous look on her face like she was battling with something internally. He decided not to push her knowing that she would tell him what she wanted to say in her own time. They were halfway through a particularly boring ad on the TV when she finally spoke up.

“Hey Mick? Before I heard from you, I had been planning on moving back home”

This caused his head to whip around and he gave her an incredulous look. “Why the fuck did you want to come home?”

“Because I fucking _hate_ it here Mick, I never wanted to move to fucking Indiana I only did it because Kenyatta wanted to. Now he’s gone I have no reason to stay. I have no boyfriend, no friends, a shitty job and a shitty apartment” she replied in voice that let him know she had been debating this with herself for a long time. He decided to keep quiet and let her continue because he could sense she wasn’t finished yet.

“I’m fucking _miserable_ out here, I miss you, Iggy, Colin, Yevgeny, fuck I even miss Svetlana” she said with a dry laugh before proceeded on. “Chicago may be a shithole but it’s the shithole where the people I love live and if I can’t find love outside of Chicago I’d rather go back and be with the people I care about”.

Mickey sat there uncertainly, unsure what to say as he was still learning how to navigate the world of feelings but he eventually found the energy to reach over and place a hand on his sister’s shoulder.

“We miss you too Mandy” he said finally. She gave him a small smile and leaned into the touch before continuing on.

“I quit my job at the diner tonight, after punching the creepy regular who kept touching my ass of course, and I’m planning on moving back to Chicago in a week or two but before I do I have plans that I hope you can help with me” she said looking at him with a glint in her eye that promised mischief. 

“Depends, what do these plans involve?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well, after you got in last night I was thinking about all the shit that went on back home in Chicago and I came to a realisation. I have never ever given myself time to grieve over _anything_ that has ever happened to me. Every breakup, every disappointment, every loss... I just pushed them down and buried them because I was afraid if I let myself feel them they’d break me. But that’s not healthy either; I’ve saved up a decent amount of money working in that shithole because I haven’t really had any reason to spend it so I’ve come to a decision. I’m going to dedicate the rest of my time in Indiana to wallowing in my own misery and getting absolutely fucked up. And my question Mick is, would you care to join me?” she finished with a pleased smirk.

“Yeah I think I can do that” he said returning her grin.

***

After three days of heavy drinking it was safe to say that Mandy’s plan of finally mourning her shitty life was a roaring success as she had ended up crying about five times, thrown up twice and nearly been arrested outside a bar at 3am for being drunk and disorderly. The Friday night found her sitting in a local bar with her brother and ranting up a storm about her upstairs neighbours.

“Like, I’m not exaggerating Mick, you’ve heard them! How many times have you heard them fucking bang since you got here?” she demanded waving her vodka around wildly as she gesticulated.

“Like 10 times” he answered in an exasperated voice.

“See I’m not being unreasonable, and like, I wouldn’t mind but they’re both well into their 70’s! Where the fuck are they finding that kind of energy?! I can barely go _twice_ a night let alone four times” she exclaimed, slamming her drink down on the table in front of her.

“Barely twice a night? Jesus Mandy maybe you’re the geriatric in this scenario” he found himself saying with a smirk, drink making him much more open that he normally ever was.

“Fuck off! That’s a normal amount Mick, unless your dick is going to catch fire or fall off unless you meet a certain quota every night” she snapped back with a faint flush.

“Whatever you say” he replied raising his hands in surrender.

“Cockslut” she muttered back while faking a cough.

He went to hit her but she was already up out of the seat before he had the chance, laughing at the embarrassed look on his face all the way to the bathroom. When she got back they chatted back and forth quietly for a while until Mickey started to notice the pensive look on his sister’s face as she sat stirring her drink with the straw.

“Do you remember when Mom used to speak to us in Ukrainian when Dad wasn’t around” she asked seemingly out of nowhere catching Mickey completely off guard.

Their parents had both been from Ukraine. Terry got their mother got pregnant at 12 and they had their first kid by 13. They moved over to America after they got married at 16. Jamie had been 3 and Tony had been one, their mother had been pregnant with Colin at the time but didn’t know yet. For some reason, once they got to America their father had quickly decided he was ashamed of his heritage and had insisted they only speak English at home as they were now Americans. Their mother had disagreed; she was proud of her country and her language and insisted on speaking it to the kids in private.

The 3 eldest boys quickly lost interest as they grew older, their dad too busy moulding them into perfect puppets for himself for them to have time to waste on something like that, they knew bits and pieces but never learnt it fully. Iggy hadn’t been their mother’s child, he was a product of one of Terry’s probably numerous affairs, his mother a junkie who dumped him on Terry and disappeared the moment he was born. Luckily for him their mother, the kind hearted woman she was, took pity on him and raised him like one of her own with no questions asked. Their father had no interest in him at first and thus allowed her to name him whatever she wanted which is how he was the first of her kids to get a Ukrainian name, _Oleksiy_.

The kids can’t remember exactly where the nickname Iggy came from but their father refused to call him anything else once it started. Their mother later managed to persuade him to let him name her next two kids, arguing that she had let him name the first three. They don’t know how she convinced him but he eventually agree on the condition that they be called by more Americanised nicknames like Iggy was which is how the names _Mikhailo_ and _Masha_ were given to the youngest kids, or respectively, _Mickey_ and _Mandy_.

After their mother had died he and Mandy had continued to speak to each in Ukrainian whenever they were in private, desperate in their own way to cling on to something of their mother. They eventually stopped the older they got, life not allowing the same childish closeness they had enjoyed when they were younger. Mickey hadn’t realised he had zoned out until he heard Mandy calling his name.

“Mick? Do you remember” she repeated, but this time she said it in Ukrainian, no doubt deciding this was a faster way of seeing if he remembered.

“Yeah, I remember” he answered hesitantly, language seeming rusty on his tongue after not speaking it in 5 or 6 years. He could see her eyes getting softer, awash with memories. She decided to continue on, almost looking like she was trying to get a feel of the words, to re-familiarize herself with them.

“I’m glad you remember, makes me think about how close we used to be when we were younger before…” she said trailing off with a sad smile. She sat their shaking her head for a minute and Mickey found himself getting twitchy.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” he asked nudging her leg with his own and watching her shrug.

“Was just thinking about Dad” she replied after a minute trying to avoid his eyes. Mickey felt a cold empty feeling start to settle in the depths of his stomach that had the hair on the back of his neck standing. He always felt the same when he thought about his dad, a resounding _dread_ that crept through him and infected him like there was something toxic in his blood.

“What about him?” he finally managed to ask after a minute.

“Did…Did Ian ever tell you about what happened with Dad?” she asked so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Her words set his stomach rolling, nausea ripping through him in bursts and he had to lean forward onto his elbows and rub the palms of his hands into his eyes, willing himself to push through the feeling of shame and _disgust_. He forced himself to nod his head slightly and he heard the jittery gasp Mandy made when she noticed.

“Mickey?” she said after a minute, voice sounding timid just like when she was 5 and she used to creep into his room when their parents were fighting.

“I’m sorry Mandy, I’m really fucking sorry that he hurt you. I should have fucking protected you from him, I shouldn’t have let you get hurt” he said after a minute, voice rough with emotion, unable to meet his sisters eyes.

“It’s not your fault Mick you –“

“It is _my_ fucking fault! I’m your brother I should have kept you safe” he interrupted loudly, slamming his hand down on the bar. He noticed several curious looks being thrown his way and belatedly realised they were still talking in Ukrainian so no one had idea what they were shouting about.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and nearly jumped when Mandy’s hands shot out to grab his on the table. He took notice of her hands, they were so small, her wrists tiny. Breakable. _Fragile._ It was almost enough to tip him over the edge but Mandy chose that moment to start speaking again.

“Mickey, none of you knew it was happening, not Iggy, not Colin, none of you. If I had told someone it might have stopped but I didn’t and that’s on me ok? I thought I could handle it on my own but I was wrong, I’ll never make that mistake again” she said fiercely in a voice that let him know if he even dared to pity her for a minute longer she’d hang him upside down by his ball sack.

Mickey didn’t know if it was the drink or just the fact that Mandy had shared such a private part of her life with him but the next words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.  

“Well, that’s another thing we have in common I guess” he said with a twisted smile.

He could see a million emotions flash through Mandy’s eyes before she finally responded with a shocked “What?”

“Svetlana, made me fuck her at gunpoint after catching me and Ian together” he said simply, lighting a cigarette to give him something to do with his hands which were twitching nervously.

“Fuck Mick… So Yev?” she asked letting her voice trail off, an obvious question floating in the air.

“Yep, and people wonder why I used to have such a hard time looking at the two of them” he responded dryly.

Mandy was silent for a minute, reaching to light her own cigarette in a daze. She was half way through before she spoke again.

“So I’m guessing you didn’t marry her of your own free will?” she finally said while looking him straight in the eye.

“I’m pretty sure the words Dad used were something along the lines of ‘I’ll kill you _and_ your faggot boyfriend if you don’t’ which I didn’t have to worry about in the end because Ian ran off to join the army” he answered fiddling with his nearly empty glass.

“Jesus Mick, do you tell anyone anything that happens to you?” she asked shaking her head.

“Do you?” he shot back which had her shrugging sheepishly and ignoring him in favour of putting her cigarette out in the ashtray. He found himself talking again before he even realised it.

“After it happened, I started getting these attacks whenever I was stressed or upset. At first I thought it was panic attacks because I looked it up online and they said they were common after something like that, something to do with PTSD or some shit but I didn’t have all the symptoms. I eventually figured out they were something called LSA attacks, which are like panic attacks but you only get one or two symptoms, in my case I just get really out of breath and dizzy and my heart ends up beating real fucking fast. I discovered I don’t get them when I’m drunk or high so I started just drinking a shit ton and taking drugs whenever I’m upset or stressed to avoid them. I hadn’t had one in months but I started getting them again after the break up” he said scratching the back of his neck.

Mandy looked at him sympathetically and slid closer to him in the booth. He wondered what she would think if she knew how bad they could actually be, downplaying the effects a bit so as not to worry her.

“You do realise you can’t keep doing that though don’t you Mick?” she asked gently.

“Course I fucking know that, it’s just... I don’t fucking like being on my own when I have one, makes me feel even more stressed out” he answered feeling his face heat up as he clenched his fists under the table.

“Well next time just let me know and I’ll come sit beside you, we don’t even have to talk I’ll just keep you company, ‘kay?” she said firmly, channelling their mother so strongly in that moment that it made his heart long for her for a second.

“Okay, okay enough with the sappy shit Oprah Winfrey” he replied waving her off.

“Well, now that we’ve had our made for TV movie special moment of the night how about I get us some shots?” she asked jumping up from the booth and winking as she sashayed over to the bar.

Mickey doesn’t know how they got home that night but he knows his chest felt lighter than it had in months.

***

That Saturday night found them snorting cocaine in the corner of a warehouse party they’d stumbled upon and falling around laughing manically and clinging to each other, too fucked to give a shit about anything. The night took an interesting turn when some guy tried to grope Mandy and she and Mickey had ended up assaulting him causing a massive fight to break out that resorted in the police being called. They ended up stumbling home at 3 am covered in a mixture of their own blood and other peoples, singing loudly as the drugs rushing through their veins made their blood sing and their heads spin pleasantly.

Mickey was lying on the couch trying to find his cigarettes while watching Mandy give a rousing rendition of “Don’t look back in anger” by Oasis and laughing when she threw herself on the couch beside him and asked him if he remembered how he used to braid her hair when they were little. He tried to deny it but he eventually agreed to try after much begging and found he could still to do it after all those years. When he was finished Mandy threw her head back so it was in his lap and looked at him thoughtfully while chewing her bottom lip.

“Y’know the day before I left to come here with Kenyatta and I said I was going to leave because there was nothing for me in Chicago?” she asked waiting for Mickey to nod before she continued. “I regret saying that. I regret saying there was nothing for me in Chicago because there was. There was you, there was my family. Growing up all I ever wanted was to be part of a happy family, I was so fucking jealous whenever I went round to the Gallagher house because they had what we didn’t. They were just as poor, just as much of a train wreck… but they had each other and I was so _jealous_. That’s what I want Mick, I want us to be a family again, like when we were kids. Terry’s in jail there’s nothing stopping us from doing it.” She said looking up at him, a hint of sadness clouding the hope in her eyes. When he didn’t immediately respond she reached up to pluck his cigarette from his mouth and took a long drag before speaking again.

“I used to adore you when we were little, I thought the sun shone out of your ass Mick, you were my favourite person in the whole world” she said quietly.

“Me too” he responded easily, drugs clogging his senses too much for his walls to be up.

She smiled brightly at that for a minute before continuing, pupils massive from the drugs pumping through her blood.

“I want us to be a family again because when you find people you love you need to keep them close because the world is shitty enough without being on your own” she said, voicing slurring slightly as tiredness started to creep in.

She sat up and suddenly looked him directly in the eyes and Mickey could see the desperation and years of loneliness reflected in hers when she quietly asked, “You love me don’t you Mick?”

He found himself responding automatically, not a doubt in his drug addled mind. “Of course I do”

“And I love you, you know that right Mick? I know that I’m not the one you wanted to hear say that but I just want you to know that I do okay?” she said softly.

Mickey found himself nodding back, heart heavy with an emotion he hadn’t felt very often in his life. He realised it was affection.

Mandy’s eyes started to drift shut pretty soon after that and he was forced to put one of his arms over her shoulders and walk her into her bedroom where he proceeded to lay her down on the bed. He was about to walk away when her arm shot out and grabbed his hoodie sleeve.

“Stay” she said simply.

Mickey was too tired to argue so he pulled back the sheets and slipped in beside her. He realised when he woke up the next day that the previous night was the first time in weeks he hadn’t gone to bed lonely and considering the fact that they spent the rest of their time there sharing the bed he realised that she must have felt the same.

The morning they woke up to discover Mandy had somehow managed to get the Ukrainian word for family, _Родина_ tattooed on her wrist he had laughed at her. When she then pointed out that it was on his collarbone he had told her it was time to go home before they did any real damage.

But when he finally caught sight of it in the bathroom mirror when he went to take a shower that morning, he found it hard to be upset about it when he remembered Mandy’s smile.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that chapter ended up being way longer than expected but I was on too much of a roll to let it stop. I wanted to dedicate this chapter to Mickey and Mandy's relationship because it's one that will play a big part in this fic. I hope people enjoy it and thank you for taking the time to read it!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at glassheartxo.tumblr.com


	3. Rebirth

As dawn broke on the day they were set to travel back home, Mickey found himself feeling restless and nervous. He had awoken at 6.am and had been unable to get back to sleep, mind racing with thoughts of the things he had tried to run from in Chicago. Terry, Svetlana, Yev… _Ian._ He had slipped silently from between the sheets and padded away in an effort to not wake Mandy up; she had been awake late the previous night packing her things. Neither of them bothered mentioning aloud how little she actually possessed, there was no need to comment. He had sat out by the railing in front of Mandy’s apartment smoking cigarette after cigarette as the sun rose and slowly illuminated the buildings in front of him. When Mandy finally joined him after an hour with coffee in hand they had sat sipping at their drinks and passing a cigarette back and forth with their legs dangling over the side, enjoying the peace for once. It was with great dread and anticipation that they finally packed up the last of Mandy’s things and left before they could scare themselves out of it. The wait at the bus stop felt like hours, both siblings being crushed by the weight of their own respective baggage’s, demons slowly creeping in and laying waste to their courage.

The silence remained in place long after they had grabbed their seats. The roar of the engine starting up made them both visibly twitch and Mickey couldn’t help but wonder if their twisted psyches were visible for everyone to see at that minute. Could people see how damaged they were? Was their even any point pretending or did their pain shine bright from their eyes like the spotlights of ships lost at sea. The longer they sat in silence the longer he had to dwell on his problems. _Ian._ The bitter taste of failure began to form on his tongue and he felt the crushing weight of despair creep in threatening to smother him. He clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap until little half-moon shapes began to form on his palms. It was Mandy’s hand suddenly reaching out to grab his wrist that finally caused him to stop. He hesitated for a minute before finally looking up to meet her eyes to find them full of silent worry.

“I’m nervous to go back too Mick, but… I think it’s the right thing for us, at least for now.” She said in a small voice that was laced with so much hope that it actually made Mickey want to believe for a minute.

He could see that she was desperate, desperate for family, for love, desperate to _belong_ somewhere.  Mickey found himself stroking her hand with his thumb to comfort her and she gave him a half smile back that made him happy that he had made the effort to try. About an hour into the trip he’d felt her head lolling onto his shoulder like she was melting into him and all the tension just sagged out of her. She was a comfortable weight pressed against him and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness looking at her curled into his side. She looked so fragile in her sleep, so _breakable_. His sister acted like a hurricane when she was awake, all snarls and hard eyes like she could trick the world into thinking she was indestructible, but Mickey knows that’s not true. Deep down she’s just like him. Hard exterior’s masking the fact that they were both broken children who grew up too fast on a diet of vodka, sharp words and even sharper fists. He made a vow to himself that day if he could achieve nothing else in his life, he’d make sure his sister was safe and happy.

**

Standing in front of his childhood home with his duffel bag in one hand and a cigarette in the other Mickey heaved out a sigh that had Mandy raising an eyebrow at him.

“What the fucks up with you?” she asked while taking a long drag off her own cigarette from where she was perched on her suitcase.

“This place looks like such a fucking dump; did it always look like this much of a shithole?”

“Yep, pretty much Mick. This dive makes Guantanamo Bay look like the Hilton” she replied flicking her cigarette away and shrugging.

She waited till he was finished before nodding her head towards the house and heading up the steps to the front door. Mickey hesitated for a minute, memories of the house in front of him flashing before his eyes. He shook his head and steeled himself, if Mandy could do it, so could he. His sister threw the door open and walked in with false confidence oozing out of her in abundance. He knew what she was thinking, who she was expecting to see sitting at the kitchen table, they both knew he wasn’t there but the fear was there, lingering in the backs of both their minds.

They were instead greeted by Iggy’s shocked face, spoon full of cereal hovering an inch from his mouth.

“Fuck, _Mandy_?” he half-shouted while dropping his spoon back into the bowl and pushing up out of his chair.

He had crossed the room and wrapped her in his arms before either of them had a chance to form a reply. Mandy looked taken aback for a minute before her face softened completely and she returned the embrace with a smile. After a minute he made eye contact with Mickey over her shoulder and offered him a grin. When Mickey actually returned it he released her and approached him with a look of determination on his face that Mickey had never seen before. Before he knew it his brother had wrapped his arms around his shoulders in a slightly more masculine hug than the one he had given Mandy. Mickey froze for a second, realising he could count the number of times he had been hugged in the last few years on one hand before tentatively placing his hands on his brothers back. The whole thing lasted about 5 seconds before he pulled away but it felt as if something big had occurred between the siblings.

“So, are you back for good Mands?” Iggy asked while throwing himself down on the couch.

“I’m back for now, don’t know how long it will last but I’m hoping awhile” she replied, joining him on the couch.

She motioned for Mickey to join them so he flopped down beside Mandy causing her to jump slightly where she sat and shoot him an un-amused look. Mickey stayed quiet while she told Iggy about her time in Indiana and her break up with Kenyatta. When she was finished telling the story of the shotgun Iggy gave her a high five in appreciation and asked her did she want a joint.

“Y’know what? I feel like a shower, maybe later? You and Mick can just share it” she said while shooting Mickey a significant look that he could read all too well.

She clearly wanted him to share his story as well and have a fraternal moment so she was making herself scarce. Iggy nodded his agreement and cast Mickey a suspicious stare that he studiously avoided until Mandy had left the room. He heard the sound of the lighter and after a minute his brother was nudging him and holding the joint out to him with a cocked brow. He took it and inhaled greedy lungful’s, letting the drugs do their job of relaxing him and loosening his tongue. After a minute he felt his brother’s eyes on him and he risked looking over to see him giving him the same significant look, he noted bitterly that it must run in the family.

“What?” he asked while handing it back.

“Are we ever gonna talk about what happened Mick? Because I’m not _that_ fucking stupid that I didn’t notice you floating around the house like a black cloud for weeks on end” he replied with a look that dared him to argue.

“I don’t think your stupid, I just – “ he said stopping abruptly. Because he realised he honestly didn’t have a good reason for not telling him, he just presumed he might not give a shit.

He let out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes roughly before finally looking Iggy in the eyes.

“You really wanna know what happened?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said didn’t I shithead?” he shot back while kicking him in the leg in a way that that bordered on painful.

Mickey got up to grab two beers from the bridge and when he was finished downing half of his he started to talk. When he was finished Iggy’s face looked sympathetic in a way Mickey hadn’t imagined it would.

“Fuck man, that’s some heavy shit” he said exhaling after a particularly long drag.

Mickey nodded and pulled at the label on his bottle of beer, letting the silence drag out for a bit longer.

“For what it’s worth, I’m real sorry bro” he said while placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it.

Mickey felt lost for words; it had been a long time since anyone in his family had shared feelings and got in any way emotional. He settled for a half smile that probably looked more pained than cheerful.

“Thanks man”

His brother simply shrugged back at him before finally speaking again. “I’m pretty fucking angry with you as well though.”

His words had Mickey’s eyebrows rising dramatically.

“Why the fuck are you angry at _me_?” he exclaimed while sitting up straighter.

“For not letting me and Colin in, we could have fucking helped you if you let us man but you didn’t even _try_ to talk to us. Pretty shitty feeling knowing your own little brother doesn’t trust you” Iggy replied in a frustrated tone.

“Trust had nothing do with it man don’t start shit” he shot back feeling his own temper start to flare up.

“Oh yeah? Then what the _fuck_ was it Mick? You'd rather kill yourself than talk to us? If you wanted to get fucking messed up every night you could have at least done it with us rather than getting thrashed alone in your fucking bedroom” his brother shot back, Mickey flinching when he remembered Iggy shouting at him in the hospital after his overdose.

“I didn’t think you’d fucking care alright?” Mickey shouted back. He immediately regretted his words and promptly clamped his mouth shut, cursing himself for saying something that personal out loud.

He could see his brother physically freeze at that, bottle titling in his fingers as he momentarily forgot he was holding it. When he turned to look at him all traces of anger had left him, eyes filled with a tinge of melancholy instead.

“Listen, I know with Dad around it can be hard to…like, y’know, talk about stuff and shit but he’s not here Mick, you don’t have to be afraid of him. I’m your fucking brother; you can always come to me with your problems, or if you need someone shot okay? I was totally supportive of your big gay love wasn’t I? So why would you need to worry about me not caring shithead huh?”

Mickey found himself stumped, he think he opened his mouth once or twice but there was definitely nothing coming out.

“Yeah yeah I fucking get it man; your emotionally retarded don’t stress yourself out trying to respond like a regular human being” Iggy added at seeing the look of surprise on his face.

“Fuck you” Mickey said while flipping him off.

They settled into a slightly more relaxed silence after that, Iggy laughing at some stupid commercial breaking the ice and soaking up some of the tension. He stood up and went to grab them a couple more beers and when he came back he continued on with his earlier topic.

“If Gallagher ever shows his face here again he’s getting my fist to his face” Iggy said conversationally while lighting a cigarette.

“Don’t fucking bother man, it ain’t worth it” he replied while shaking his head.

“Nah, I think I will. Nobody fucks with the Milkoviches, nobody gets to break my fucking bro’s heart and get away with it. I think it’s a fair trade, broken nose for a broken heart.” He added with a languid stretch.

“Seriously Ig don’t worry about it” Mickey replied while wagging his own cigarette around lazily.

“I do worry about it, because no one’s ever worried about you once in your fucking life and now I’m stepping up to the job okay shithead?” he said with a look that was surprisingly serious.

It was an expression that looked very out of place when being compared to Iggy’s usually laid back demeanour and expression. Mickey was saved the task of having to answer in the form of Mandy shouting his name from her bedroom. He counted his blessings and was up as fast he could. When he walked in Mandy was lying on her bed in what he was pretty sure was his sweatpants but he wasn’t bothered fighting her at that minute in time.

“Well, did you do your Jerry Springer shit? Get your cry on?” she asked with a grin on her face.

“Fuck you, whaddya want?” he said with a roll of his eyes. Her playful expression dropped slightly at his words and she sat up straighter before speaking again.

“Well, I was thinking… you probably still have a lot of Ian’s stuff in your room right? I was going to offer to help you clean it out, if you want” she said, aiming for casual but missing by a mile.

His knee jerk reaction was to tell her to fuck off and that he could do it himself, but the more he thought about digging through Ian’s shit on his own, the more he realised he couldn’t do it. He swallowed around the lump forming in his throat and nodded. She offered him a sad smile back and pushed herself up off the bed.

“Do you wanna do it now? Get it out of the way before you go to bed later?” she asked in a voice that was surprisingly gentle for someone raised where they were.

“Yeah, fuck it. C’mon” he replied while nodding towards the door.

Mandy led the way into his room and he heard her slight gasp when she saw the state of it. The first time Mickey had been home after the break up was after he was let out of hospital for his gunshot wound. In the hospital, due to the mixture of shock and morphine, he hadn’t fully comprehended what had actually happened. It wasn’t until he was home in his own bedroom that the pain and anger had brimmed over, his emotions bursting out of him like a bottle that had been shook too many times. He had proceeded to smash, punch and kick everything in his sight until his face was wet and his lungs ached from exhaustion. He had then proceeded to lock himself in the room drinking for weeks leading to an impressive build-up of bottles and cans all over the room, cigarette ash covering everything in a reasonable radius to the bed. Mandy heaved out a sight at the state of it and walked out muttering to herself. When she returned 5 minutes later she was armed with a variety of cleaning products and had a determined look in her eye.

“Alright, I’ll clean and you sort through the clothes okay?” she ordered while pulling her hair partially back from her face with a bandana.

He nodded back even though he knew she wouldn’t notice, when Mandy set her sight on a goal there was no arguing with her. The first half an hour passed relatively quickly, the silence occasionally punctuated by Mandy cursing vehemently as she cleaned. It was going fine till Mickey reached the last pile of clothes in the corner. Until he picked up one of Ian’s stupid hoody’s and felt his throat start to constrict painfully. He was dimly aware of Mandy chatting away to him in the background but he couldn’t focus on her words.

He didn’t even realise his eyes were wet until Mandy reached forward and pried the fabric from between his fingertips gently. She placed a comforting hand on his forearm and gave it a squeeze.

“You only slept for about 4 hours last night Mick, why don’t you go lie down in my room for a while and rest? You’re fucking woeful at cleaning anyway so you’ll just get in my way” she added with a grin to try and lighten the mood.

He wanted to protest but he suddenly just felt so weak and tired and Mandy was manhandling him towards her bedroom before he could mount a good argument.

He fell asleep pretty much as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**

When he finally woke up it was dark outside and he could hear Iggy and Mandy laughing in the kitchen. A quick check of his phone informed him that it was just after 9 and he lamented the fact that he still felt ridiculously tired even after his nap. Pulling himself out of bed was a struggle and he decided quickly that he was going straight to his own bed to lie down for a while. When he pushed open the door he was immediately taken aback by how clean the room was. All the clothes were off the floor, all the cans and bottles were gone and the bed sheets were changed. He also noticed there was a strong smell of pine but he decided he could live with it for the time being. He made a mental note to buy his sister a carton of cigarettes or a bottle of vodka to say thanks. He stood in the doorway surveying the room and quickly realised the main reason it looked so _different._

All traces of Ian were gone.

He felt his breathing start to pick up and he walked into the bathroom to wet his face in the sink. Ian had broken up with him, Ian didn’t want him anymore. Ian was _gone._ He heard his sister ask him did he want pizza but he couldn’t respond.

When it finally hit him again, _properly,_ without narcotics and alcohol to numb the pain, he felt like he had been punched in the gut. Ian had left him. _Ian was gone_. _Ian, Ian, Ian._ It felt like drowning, his lungs aching like they were full of water. Wave after wave of anger, pain, loss and other emotions he didn’t feel like naming washing over him as walked into the bedroom in a daze. He was sitting on his bed facing the window and trying to keep himself from falling apart. He wanted to move, he wanted to react, but he found he was momentarily paralysed. There was a strange feeling crushing his lungs and he could hear a dull buzzing sound in his ears. He distantly noted that he heard someone calling his name, seeking a reaction, but he just wasn’t able to process it. It wasn’t until he registered the feeling of someone touching him that he finally figured out it was Mandy. It was then the realisation started to process, pushing through the swirling mess that was his thoughts and forcing oxygen back into his lungs. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest making it feel like it was on fire and he choked out a gasp that sounded more like a sob. He felt the bed dip behind him letting him know his sister had joined him, could feel himself trembling as he tried to keep his breathing even. When her arms tentatively reached out to touch him he felt his eyes starting to burn with unshed tears. Sensing he wasn’t about to stop her, she proceeded to wrap her arms around his middle and press her face into his shoulder. She didn’t speak, she didn’t pry, she was just _there._ He thinks that was what finally made the tears flow.

He doesn’t know long they sat there, it could have been minutes or hours but eventually the feelings started to recede slightly and he wasn’t struggling for breath any more. He let out a slow exhale and tried to keep his voice calm despite the inner turmoil causing his stomach to churn uncomfortably. When he finally forced himself to speak after what felt like an eternity of staring at the wall his voice sounded more in control than he could have hoped for.

“Sorry about that”

He felt his sister sit up straighter from her position behind him, body noticeably tenser than it had been 30 seconds beforehand.

“Don’t be fucking stupid Mick, you _needed_ me, I was there. That’s how this shit works okay? You don’t have to apologise for being a human being any more than anyone else does.” She replied in a voice that although lacked a lot of her usual bite, was still quite ferocious.

He smothered the feeling of uselessness growing inside him, pushing it down into his darkest corners and nodded stiffly. He pushed himself up off the bed in an attempt to look calmer and less like he was falling apart. When he didn’t respond straight away Mandy looked at him nervously and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“You okay Mick? That looked pretty bad, you scared me half to death” she said weakly.

“I’m fine, I can deal with it…don’t worry about me okay?” he responded taking a deep breath through his nose and exhaling.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause that was fucking terrifying Mickey; it looked like you were going to suffocate”

  
“Yeah well, thanks and all but, I’m fine right now so... you can go” he muttered while rubbing his finger across his bottom lip absently.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew Mandy wouldn’t be fooled by his little display but his instinct for self-preservation had kicked in and he was trying to save himself from further harm. Thankfully, she seemed to realise he needed time to lick his wounds and nodded briefly before turning and walking out the door, Mickey not fully relaxing till he heard the click of the handle snapping into place. He sagged against the wall feeling deflated, _empty_. He sat there until the room started to grow dark around him and the only light was the cherry red glow from the tip of his cigarette. He went over everything again and again in his head until he nearly felt dizzy wondering how he gotten himself in so deep with the infuriating red head. He could list a million things about the other man that drove him mad but at the same time, Mickey knew that being with him was the greatest thing he had ever done with his life.

And that scared the _shit_ out of him.

He was drawn to his imperfections, no matter how frustrating, because they echoed the feelings of imperfection in his own heart. If it was okay for someone like Ian to be imperfect, it was okay that he wasn’t flawless either. He felt something building within him, and though he couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, he knew it had been coming for a while. He needed to be rational. He needed to move on.

He needed to let Ian _go._

**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain in the ass to write, it just wouldn't cooperate but here it is finally. Thank you for taking the time to read! :)


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